


Earpieces as mice

by hayesgeneration



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Unorthodox flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayesgeneration/pseuds/hayesgeneration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with Moneypenny leaning over Q’s work station to look at Bond, fingers tented in front of the small grin playing at her mouth.<br/>“Someone’s in love with their Quartermaster.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earpieces as mice

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet written for [my girl](http://sachan93.tumblr.com/) who breathes 00Q. It's a brilliant pairing, guys, and it's actually nice writing without constantly having to think "don't be British, don't be British" as I do when I write Teen Wolf stuff.

It starts with Moneypenny leaning over Q’s work station to look at Bond, fingers tented in front of the small grin playing at her mouth.

“Someone’s in love with their Quartermaster.”

Bond snorts.

“Please.”

Moneypenny touches the mangled earpiece on the desk. Q is out getting a storage box to contain the pieces; wouldn’t want Q branch tech being found by people who shouldn’t have it.

“You’ve been pulling his metaphorical pigtails for months. I’m surprised he still has hair. Metaphorically, of course,” she says, smiling sweetly at Bond. That finally prompts a small reaction; Bond smirks. Just barely. One of the deadliest men in the world, Moneypenny thinks, that smirk is therefore one of the deadliest quirks of lips in the world. It makes quite good sense to her.

“He did throw quite a fuss, didn’t he?” asks Bond, like it’s a fond memory. Moneypenny picks up the earpiece and turns it over in her hands.

“You didn’t need to break it, did you?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow at the double-oh agent. Bond’s smirk is calculated and stays exactly in place.

“No.”

Q enters the room like a thundercloud, containment box under one arm, stepping around Bond without as much as a glance. Moneypenny tries exchanging glances with Bond as Q starts packing away the destroyed tech with short, clipped movements, but Bond’s eyes are on the quartermaster’s back, or well, maybe a tad further down. Moneypenny smiles, and leaves the two to their silence.

“Does your grandfather even have sweaters left?” she hears Bond ask right after the clasp of the box sealing tight.

“Get _out_ , Bond, or so help me god, I will have your bloody status revoked this instant,” sneers Q, and Bond catches up with Moneypenny on his way to M’s office for debriefing.

 

\---

 

It starts with Bond’s car wrapped around a tree, snow under the wheels, Q in his new earpiece (this one even smaller than the last and yet already damaged), hissing _007, answer me, you answer me right now or I swear_ , scratching in his ear. Bond rolls over to stare up into the stark white sky, breathes, breathes.

“I’m unharmed.”

He hears the heavy, relieved exhale through the static on the other end before the sound breaks off for a second and comes back as pure static. Bond presses tryingly at the earpiece with a finger, and the device finally falls apart and drizzles out of his ear in three different parts. Bond swears. Oh well.

He’s picked up 15 minutes later and taken to the MI6, sent directly to the infirmary before debriefing because “unharmed” apparently means “alive but sustained numerous injuries when rolling out of a god damn moving car”. Bond is given an earful from Moneypenny (which really just means a roll of eyes, a quick flirt to check from his reciprocation that he hasn’t hit his head, a slight scold) while he’s being checked over for broken ribs. Only two. It’s just another Monday.

He meets Q in the quartermaster’s office, profusely ignoring Bond.

“I broke another one,” says Bond and closes the door behind him.

“Colour me surprised,” retorts Q coolly without as much as turning to face Bond. He picks up the mug by his side, takes a swig. Bond can hear the insistent clicking of keys under Q’s fingers.

“Unharmed,” says Q. Bond hums in confirmation.

“ _Unharmed_ is defined as not being injured, so technically you lied to your quartermaster today.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to worry him with details of petty bruising,” Bond says. He walks up behind Q and reaches his arm closely by his elbow to place the earpiece on the desk next to Q’s keyboard.

“Happy Christmas.”

“You know, you could have put dead mice on my doorstep, it would have been cheaper,” says Q and turns. Bond picks the glasses off his face.

“Would it have gotten your attention?” he asks, carefully placing the glasses behind Q on the desk and keeping his hand there, wrist brushing the quartermaster’s hip. Q smirks. Bond should be about close enough that Q can still make out his face.

“Granted, it would have probably only gotten my cat’s attention. Personally, I’m not adverse to flowers.”

It starts with Bond kissing Q like he’s done it a million times before, even when he hasn’t. 


End file.
